


Breaking the Rules

by SugarsweetRomantic



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F, Morning Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-22
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2019-03-22 13:04:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13764789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarsweetRomantic/pseuds/SugarsweetRomantic
Summary: There were few rules in Bridget Westfall’s home, but the ones that were in place, were very clear.One day, she decides to break one of them.





	Breaking the Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes, it's time for some shameless smut.

There were few rules in Bridget Westfall’s home, but the ones that were in place, were very clear. Do not leave the cap off the tube of toothpaste. Do not dog-ear books - that's what bookmarks are for. Silks go to the dry cleaners. The clearest and most sacrosanct one, however, was: Bridget is not a morning person, and denies the existence of seven o’clock AM on the weekends.

So when Franky Doyle woke up without the blonde sleeping soundly next to her on a Saturday morning in September, she was immediately alarmed. Looking to her right, she saw the time in red LED linework: 07:12. Where in the world was Bridget? 

Franky quickly pulled on a pair of sweatpants and stepped out into the hallway, on the search for her girl. The scent of fresh coffee suddenly permeated her senses, and she followed the smell of roasted arabica beans to the kitchen, where she found the missing psychologist. Bridget was bent over in front of the oven, removing croissants from the hot tray. From the looks of it, she hadn't bothered to put on any clothing beyond the necessities: her slender form was covered only by her underwear and a loose T-shirt, which on second inspection Franky recognised as one of her own. A loose, messy braid completed her early morning outfit. She looked good enough to eat. 

As stealthily as she could, the paralegal tiptoed over to the blonde, only to lay her hands on the other woman's hips the moment she reached her, earning her a high-pitched shriek. 

“You're up early,” she remarked while placing a kiss on the exposed skin of her neck. Bridget hummed contentedly before responding: “I felt like getting up and making us breakfast.”

“Who are you, and what have you done with my girlfriend?” Franky asked, letting her hands slip underneath the black fabric of her top to trail across her toned abdomen. 

“Can't I want to make **my** girlfriend breakfast in bed?” The response lost some of its sass due to Bridget’s back arching instinctively at the caressing touches across her front. She was putty in Franky’s hands, and the taller woman was all too aware of that. 

“What if I've already decided what I want to have for breakfast?” the brunette inquired, running her fingertips upwards to gently pinch already-hardened nipples. The older woman couldn't hold back a sharp intake of breath as electric currents ran through her nervous system at the speed of light.

“Then I would say... _ bon appétit _ .”

“God, you're hot when you speak French,” Franky sighed before checking the appliances currently in-use. When she was certain that there were no immediate fire hazards, she suddenly grabbed the petite woman by her hips and positioned her bent over towards the kitchen island, holding onto the countertop. Bridget could see the street from where she stood, the early morning traffic only slightly concealed by the thin privacy curtains. If anyone were to walk by within one metre of the windows, they would be able to see them. 

The brunette’s hands quickly found their way to Bridget’s bum, squeezing gently. The blonde spread her legs slightly, seemingly more instinctively than consciously. Grinning, Franky decided to offer her mercy. She didn’t want to drag this out. She wanted to give her girl a mind-blowing start to her day. Franky moved her hands to the blue and green cotton covering her centre, letting out a chuckle as Bridget immediately tilted her hips towards her touch. 

“Is it that bad, baby?” she asked, running a finger across damp fabric. All she got in response was a ‘mhmm’ through gritted teeth. “Let’s get these off of you then.” She pushed her thumbs past the waistband of Bridget’s underwear and helped her step out of the garment, leaving her exposed from the waist down. Her folds were glistening ever so slightly. Franky brushed her fingertips across her labia, offering her light pressure. The blonde’s breath hitched, and she pushed back against the stimulation. The younger woman located her clit with ease. She circled it lightly, knowing how Bridget preferred softer touches to rough sex. Franky continued playing with her, until the woman pressed against the counter muttered something unintelligible. 

“What was that?” she asked, halting her movements for just a second.

“I thought you were going to have breakfast,” Bridget replied on a deep breath, moving towards Franky’s touch, trying to get some friction. Franky hummed in agreement; Bridget was absolutely correct. She lowered herself until she was crouched down onto her haunches and raised her hands to soft lips, parting them so she could reach. The brunette pressed her tongue against her entrance, letting the taste and smell of her partner flood her senses. She continued the assault on Bridget’s clit of her fingertips while thrusting shallowly, her tongue exploring her flesh. 

“Fuck…” The soft whisper leaving the older woman’s mouth was her telltale sign. She didn’t say much in bed, but Franky could tell by her quickened breathing and tense posture that she was close. She sped up slightly, keeping the same gentle pressure. The moment Bridget seemed just seconds away, she hummed softly against her. Bridget let out a guttural gasp and gripped the edge of the countertop with both hands, her knuckles turning white. Franky felt the psychologist’s legs give out. She quickly rose, wrapping one arm around her waist to help support her body weight and pressing a syrupy kiss on the back of her neck.

“Michelin star worthy,” she murmured against Bridget's ear. The blonde let out a giggle while she was trying to catch her breath. Suddenly, though, before Franky could realise what was happening, Bridget had spun around in her arms and pushed her back towards the dining table. A naughty gleam appeared in her eyes as she pinned a very willing brunette down against the wooden surface.

"It's my turn now, and you've left me famished."

Franky wanted to give her a cheeky retort, but all words soon left her mind, replaced by gasps and moans.

 

Bridget decided to adjust her rule.

_ Bridget is not a morning person, and denies the existence of seven o'clock AM on the weekends - except for breakfast. _


End file.
